Forget
by allialli
Summary: Mulder finds that Scully is sick... fluff, etc. Dedicated to Julia because she's also sick, though not like Scully.


**disclaimer: not mine, don't sue ---- classic ashley disclaimer**

**this one is dedicated to julia, because her life pretty much sucks right now. she can't laugh. she'll die if she does.**

**sorry jules, for not having this posted sooner. it didn't _really_ take me two hours, i was just being a facebook whore.**

**enjoy**

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**Forget**

**_by: allialli_**

It was 3:16 in the morning, and the light in his partner's room hadn't gone off yet.

Of course, they had gotten back to their crummy little motel just over two hours ago. Maybe she was just getting ready for bed…

'_For two hours, Mulder? No, you know Scully. When she's tired, she hardly even takes her shoes off before she gets into bed. And she was falling asleep on the way home.'_

Mulder had been battling with his subconscious for the better part of those two hours. He knew it was right. But the truth was, Mulder didn't know whether or not he was actually worried about his partner, or it was just the most inner parts of his brain trying to make amends. They were out in the middle of nowhere because of him (okay, a small town in the middle of Kansas didn't really constitute as the middle of nowhere, but it was as close as Mulder could fathom at that late hour). Even _he_ was starting to think their case was reaching a dead end. At the beginning of his search for the truth, he had thought that there were enough reports of flying saucers and vampire bites to keep him occupied most of the year. But that was when he was young and stupid, and without Scully. He wished he knew now what he didn't know then. Scully thought it was easy to believe all the time, but she didn't know the half of it. She didn't know that the thread that kept him tied to his beliefs could be cut at any moment, just like the thread keeping her to her religion and sometimes, her sanity.

And that was why he was there that night. By his own account, because in the end, there would be nobody to blame but himself. Their case was going nowhere, and he was carefully watching over his partner when he should have been sleeping.

'_She's probably still getting ready for bed. Maybe she took a bubble bath…' _Mulder tried to assure himself some more. But that thought didn't comfort him. Scully never stayed in a bath longer than it took to prune, and if she had been in there for two hours, he dreaded to think of what had happened. He knew it was unlikely that Scully would drown in her own bath, but that didn't mean he wasn't scared of her doing so.

'_Do you think she accidentally left the light on? She could have been asleep this whole time!'_

It was a great possibility. It was the best one he had come up with yet. It didn't end up in a scenario where she was dead. Plus, it gave him an excuse to go in there and check.

'_Scully would hate it if I let her keep the light on all night. The least I can do is go over there and shut it off,' _he reasoned. And since they never locked their dividing motel doors, he slipped quietly into her room, though not to the scene he expected.

It was horrifying, really. And in all the years he had known Scully, even when her cancer got its worst, he had never seen her in the state she was in when he opened the door. Mulder found his partner, leaning over the toilet in the bathroom, vomiting dramatically.

Ironically, his first thought was, _'Why didn't you hear this?'_ but he immediately snapped out of selfish mode and rushed over to her side, if only to hold her hair back. Mulder had wished, for years, that his partner would open up to him and show him her weak side, but he just then realized how unprepared he was for it. Admittedly, Mulder wanted to panic. What was going on? Why was she throwing up? Was this serious? Should he get her to a hospital?

"Scully?" he asked the only thing he could think to ask once the contents of her stomach were momentarily done heaving themselves up her throat. Mulder was still holding her hair, but he wished he could do more, since she was panting now.

"I'm fine," she breathed heavily, and it was her routine answer. But the fact was that she had scared him, and he wouldn't take that for her answer.

"Scully, you're not fine. Tell me what's wrong. Why are you throwing up?" Mulder demanded to know. Scully took a few more deep breaths and once she was sure she was done, leaned back against the tiny bathtub. Her hair was askew and her face pale and sweaty. Mulder wanted to wipe away the remnants of her sick spell from the corner of her mouth, but he was unsure. He was already walking on thin ice. If she stood up right then and there and screamed she was fine in his face, it wouldn't surprise Mulder.

"It's a stomach bug, Mulder, I'm shocked you aren't throwing up. I've got all the symptoms, and I heard today it had been going around the local PD."

Mulder breathed a very audible sigh of relief. Okay. It was just a stomach bug. She was going to be okay. She was going to live. Mulder slumped down next to her.

"I don't get sick, Scully," he told her.

"Everyone gets sick," she said, closing her eyes for a moment. Mulder made good on his desire from before, reaching for the washrag on the edge of the sink and wiping Scully's mouth. In doing so, he brushed her cheek.

"You're burning up," he mentioned.

"I'm cold," she admitted in the most pitiful voice he had ever heard. Her eyes were still closed and she looked like an angel. It was time for Mulder to do something he had always wanted.

At first, Scully didn't know what was going on. All of a sudden, Mulder's arms were around her. Her head was resting on his shoulder, and she was being lifted off the ground.

"Mulder, where are you taking me?" she asked, scared he was going to take her to the hospital. It really was a stomach bug, she hoped he knew. She didn't want him to unnecessarily worry about her.

"You're cold. I'm going to make you warm," Mulder simply stated, but then Scully noticed being carried through the dividing doors. He was taking her to his room. He was setting her down (gently) on the bed. He was pulling up the covers around her. Despite the rule that stated partners could not consort in the same hotel room on things that didn't pertain to their case.

"Mulder, you don't have to do this."

"Shhhh, think warm thoughts."

She tried to listen to him, and she actually was. She listened to him go into his own bathroom and turn on the sink. He was back within seconds with a small glass of water. There was nothing Scully would have appreciated more right then. She gave her partner the brightest look of gratitude she could while washing the taste of puke out of her mouth.

"Thank you," she said after gulping the whole thing down.

"No prob. Want more?" he asked, trying not to giggle at the way the gulped the water down.

"No, I'm fine," he gave her a quizzical look, "really, Mulder," she corrected herself, "I'm just cold."

"I think I can fix that," he told her, pulling back the covers and sliding himself beneath her. Or rather, pulling her on top of him. It wasn't hard. Within a matter of seconds, she was nestled in his arms. She thought about the repercussions of this particular action, but Mulder was so warm and she was so cold…

"I hate you," she muttered, burying her nose deeper into his chest. His Mulder smell filled her nostrils, and for a second, she forgot about being nauseous.

"Why?" he chuckled.

"You're not sick."

"I told you, I don't get sick. I don't get colds, I don't get the flu. I don't get bronchitis. Sorry."

"I'll forgive you later."

"Are you sure you don't want me to get you anything? Maybe some crackers?"

"No! No, Mulder, if you move from this spot I will kill you myself. Just stay here."

Mulder's grins and chuckles turned into a full powered laugh. He had never seen Scully so child-like. She was clinging to him. And he welcomed it.

"Alright, Scully, I'll stay here," he told her, snuggling down deeper into the bed. For a cheap FBI-issued motel, the bed was extremely comfortable. And the blankets were thick. And Scully's breathing was becoming more relaxed…

Just before she drifted off to sleep, she felt Mulder's lips on her forehead. His kiss was sweet and loving. He made her forget all about being sick. He made her forget the fever and the vomit and her aching stomach.

"Hope you feel better in the morning, Scully," Mulder said after he lifted his lips off her.

"I will," Scully smiled.

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**okay, i've written chapters of stories that are longer than this. it's my first one-shot. be nice and review... twice! (julia appreciates the rhyme)**


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